Lobbying is more dull than dodgy
I turned on Panorama the other week with a prickle of glee. Hidden camera footage always lends a drama to proceedings, as do panning shots of parliament and grave voiceovers. An hour later I was largely unsatisfied. Of course it was funny to hear Patrick Mercer say ‘Guido Fawkes will be all over this. Like a dose of clap. He really will’ and to see Tim Yeo shovelling Chinese food into his mouth while bragging to undercover reporters. The documentary wasn’t as explosive as I’d hoped but, worse than that, it didn’t tell the true story about the horrors of lobbying: that most of the time it’s boring.
I worked for two years in the limbo world that is public affairs. Which sounds like the title of a Jilly Cooper book: Public Affairs – A Very Social Network. As far as I could tell, the industry was mostly comprised of former political staff who realised they could do less work for more money by just introducing people to their former colleagues. Much of the time lobbying is vague, fruitless and uninspiring. Reports are published, key stakeholders are consulted and you have to convince yourselves that you’ve made a difference. Sometimes you do, of course, but most of the time you’re just talking. Endlessly talking. To the same stakeholders, many of whom are barking mad and won’t turn up unless there’s a decent buffet and the meeting finishes before 4pm. It’s a world where special advisers are celebrities. In other words, it’s a dystopian void. You’re constantly stuck in conversations with people who mention the Cinnamon Club and do that irritating name drop where they say the first name of someone big, then follow it up with the full name, but with an inflection. ‘I was saying this to George. George Osborne?’ As if to say, ‘I’m big league, you plankton.’
Depending on your point of view I was either quite a ballsy lobbyist or a bit of an idiot. At one Conservative party conference I recognised an MP who was both a shadow minister and on a select committee but couldn’t remember his name. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking someone else so I texted 118 118. It was James Clappison. The moment the text came through I strode up to him ‘James! Pleasure to see you again.’ No politician ever says ‘I’m sorry I’ve no idea who you are’, so I helped him out. ‘Matt Forde, we met last year.’ ‘Ah yes, Matt, how are you?’ And I was off. I was constantly having to make it sound like I was doing more than I was doing. So I’d ring up a Tory MP and say ‘Can we come and talk to you about that thing you’re interested in?’ and they’d say yes. Then I’d go into a meeting and go ‘OK guys. Big news. We’re in the Tory camp. Yah, caught a big one. We’re getting real traction with this message.’ Lobbying should change its name to bullshitting so that people really understand it:
‘Hi, I’m David, I’m bullshitting on behalf of Intoxica Ltd.’
‘Ah David, I met your predecessor Neil, he’d been bullshitting me for years about wind farms. Great bloke.’
Panorama didn’t cover any of that. Apart from Mercer and Yeo, its biggest revelation was that all-party parliamentary groups and early day motions have suddenly become massively influential. Since when? Having worked in politics for many years I was under the distinct impression that EDMs were annoying, ineffective, and irrelevant. Like most lobbyists.
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Matt Forde is a stand-up comedian and talkSPORT presenter. He used to work for the Labour party www.mattforde.com
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